


The Words Own The Beating Of Our Hearts

by softsocks (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU - not youtubers, Aspiring Actor, Dan's At Uni, Dan's Best Friend Is Smarter Than He Is, Gen, M/M, Phil Works At A Bookstore, Phil is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/softsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's the cute guy from the bookstore, who always see's Dan walking past but has never spoken a word to. </p><p>Dan's the frazzled uni student who's absolutely not stalking the guy from the bookstore.</p><p>And Charlotte is the resounding voice of reason - at least she would be if Dan ever actually listened to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words Own The Beating Of Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this written for a while, and now that I finally have a computer of my own I'm able to post and I couldn't be happier. (I'm really proud of this)
> 
> Title from 'Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year' By Fall Out Boy

 

The back door creaks as Phil pushes it open, the familiar dusty smell a welcome sense. It's not very big, his book-store, but it's his family's legacy, and it's survived for more decades than some multi-million dollar companies.

It's home.

He goes about his daily tasks with a practised ease – the newly re-upholstered armchairs are brushed off, the few misplaced or forgotten books returned to their rightful place. The toys from the children's area are placed back in the toy box, the colourful blankets folded and put to the side.

He unlocks the cash register and straightens the notes, the coins and receipts. The sign is flipped so everyone knows it's open, and then he sits down on the swivel office chair, resisting the tempting urge to spin – the last time he indulged it, he spun too much. The waste-basket is extremely lucky he was able to keep it in.

"Deliveries are due today…Mrs Rockwell can get the book she's been waiting for. Mr Hemm is supposed to come in today too, he's got three books pre-ordered." Phil mutters aloud, it's how he remembers what he has to do. Writing it down never helps because he always forgets where he wrote it.

_And there's always a wishful possibility that 'cute-scarf-guy' will enter today._

* * *

 

 

Phil's always loved books.

His grandparents looked after the book-store when he was a kid, so the memories he holds are of velvet and embedded book covers, and crinkly pages, hard-boiled sweets and warm hugs and forehead kisses, and the unmistakeable smell of dust and tea that seemed to float around anywhere his grandparents went.

He was there at any chance he got, and because it was his grandparents' he could read any and all books he wanted to.

Which, of course, he did.

His grandparents knew how much he loved the store – they continuously put aside copies of books they knew he'd like – so he was only a little surprised to find they'd listed him as sole-owner of the store in their conjoined will.

They both passed away simultaneously – as they did all things – of pneumonia. His procurement of the shop was bitterly tainted.

Phil's parents already had jobs of their own they didn't want to give up, his older brother was fast-tracking his _own_ career, so there was no competition; besides, no one loves the store more than Phil.

So he finished his semester at university, moved his things into the surprisingly spacious apartment above the book-store, signed all the documents and settled in.

Two years later, he has a routine and a friendly first-name basis (they call him Phil, their choice. He usually uses their last name, as he finds it more polite) with all his customers.

And he loves it.

* * *

 

 

"One _large_ caramel macchiato with two sugars."

Dan grins as he walks through the door, the heavenly smell of cream and ground coffee beans wafting around him. The coffee shop is warm, toasty warm, so his winter coat and his scarf both come off before he cooks himself.

"One day you'll get my order wrong." He says smugly as he walks up to the counter.

"One day you'll break my routine." His best friend, Charlotte, says. "Until then, my accuracy streak is impeccable."

"Maybe I just won't come in at all." He fires back as he hands over his money.

"And miss out on your must-needed caffeine, and of course your prime stalking time."

 _"Lottie,"_ Dan whines in annoyance. "I'm not stalking him!"

"Hmm, yes you are. You don't speak to him. You walk past, every day, and as soon as he even glances over you bolt."

"I do _not_!"

Charlotte raises her eyebrows, her grass-green eyes staring at him through her very hipster-like black thick-rimmed glasses. (Although she insists that she's not a hipster at all. And the coffee shop is not a hipster hot spot either, apparently.)

"Okay. So, _maybe_ my behaviour could _possibly_ be perceived as _slightly_ stalkerish. Maybe."

Charlotte shakes her head slowly.

"You could just, you know, _talk_ to him."

Dan stares at her. Just stares.

"Oh, yeah, sure – no I can't! _Are you insane?_ "

Charlotte simply rolls her eyes and wipers the counter with a cloth. Dan sips his coffee, slowly.

"I think you're the insane one, Dan. He's just a guy, it's not like he's…I don't know, Alex Gaskarth, or Matt Bellamy."

"He might as well be. What if I went to talk to him, and I sputtered and made an awkward fool of myself?"

"Well, he'd know you're human, for one. And, he'd probably find it adorable." Charlotte says, making a point of how obvious it is, to her.

Charlotte's words sound like they _should_ make sense, and to anyone else they probably do. But she's speaking to Dan – who's shy and impossibly awkward, and who looked in the mirror that morning, took one glance at his ruffled, curly bed-hair and baggy eyes, and decided that he didn't actually have enough time to fix anything.

Today, of all days, is not the day to speak to the incredibly gorgeous book-store guy.

"All I'm saying is that you're going to have to talk to him eventually. What's the worst that can happen?" She asks.

"I could die of embarrassment?!" Dan exclaims, and it might be a little over-dramatic.

(He is an aspiring actor after all – what do you expect?)

Yet, despite what he says, Dan does consider her point.

* * *

 

'Cute-scarf-guy' – Phil doesn't know his actual name, so he's had to resort to making up his own nickname – walks past the store on certain days; Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and every third Saturday…not that Phil's been taking note. Some days he's later than others, and most days he looks like he's just woken up. Phil's primary guess is he's a university student, which explains the raggedness.

(Not that Phil minds.)

Phil also hypothesises that his daily destination is _'Stay Awake'_ – the coffee shop a few blocks down from his book-store. It's a nice place, always warm and cosy, and the coffee's amazing. He'd visit there more often if he could, but he doesn't have anyone to cover the store, so he's only been a few times.

Phil's nicknamed him 'cute-scarf-guy' - well, because he doesn't actually know the guy's name, and because he's usually wearing a coal-grey knitted scarf. Sometime's he wears a matching beanie, but he always wears a scarf.

They've been playing this 'game' for four months - of course he hadn't always worn a scarf, back then he's just been 'that-cute-guy-who-walks-past' - and Phil, as much as he enjoys it,c an't help but wish for something a little more...productive.

Like the guy...you know, actually entering the store.

_It's certainly the strangest crush I've ever had._

* * *

 

Dan's not quite sure why he accepted his parents' decision, for him to study law at university. He'd never wanted to be a lawyer - sure it's interesting, but only in the _'watch-it-on-a-show-once-a-week'_ , or _'read-about-it-in-the-news'_ kind of way. Not the _'have-it-as-a-career-for-the-rest-of-my-life'_ way.

He wanted to do performing arts, his dream, his passion, but his parents thought of it as silly and foolish. So he gritted his teeth and nodded at their every word.

Of course, what he keeps from them, is that he still attends as many auditions as he possibly can.

He's done a few minor characters in small, self-supported plays. And he has, somehow, managed to keep up with his studies.

But it's beginning to get a little too much.

* * *

 

"I'm going to fade out like a burning star." Dan whines into the phone. There's two textbooks, one folder, and three scripts all spread out on his coffee table, his laptop open next to him on the couch.

 _"You're being all annoyingly poetic again."_ Charlotte's irritation vibrates through the line.

He can practically see her rolling her eyes, the hand not holding the phone running through her tousled honey-blond hair.

"I have a lecture at ten, an audition at one, and my case study essay is due by seven. I'm actually drowning in everything I have to do."

_"You really should just quit your degree."_

"I know I _should_ , but you and I both know that I _can't_ , and _why_ I can't."

Charlotte sighs heavily. _"Yeah I know."_

She pauses, and Dan can hear her soft breaths rattling through the phone, can almost hear the cogs in her brain ticking over.

_"Why don't you come in for lunch tomorrow, I'll take my break early and help you with your audition. And after my shift's done I'll come over, we'll crack open a bottle of vodka and get this essay completed."_

"Don't you think it's a little...improper to drink in the early evening of a Thursday?" Dan teases.

 _"Not at all."_ Charlotte replies, and suddenly they're both erupting into fits of giggles.

"You're a crazy, crazy girl." Dan says, amusedly.

_"And I'm your best friend. What does that say about you?"_

"That I'm not actually smart enough for a law degree?" Dan supplies.

 _"Fucking love you too."_ Charlotte replies, and as much as the words would imply otherwise, Dan knows she's only joking.

"I love you, Char, you know I do."

_"Of course you do, I'm awesome."_

Dan laughs, Charlotte scoffs indignantly, and Dan's left wondering how he acquired such an incredible best friend.

* * *

 

Dan curses to himself as he jogs to _'Stay Awake'_ , his beanie not thick enough to warm his ears, his gloves resting comfortably on his desk, so he's fingers are paralysed in his pockets where he'd stuffed them.

He'd pressed snooze a few too many times on his alarm clock, and he's got twenty minutes before his lecture starts.

If he was logical he'd just get the cheap, crappy bean-water from the campus cafeteria, or just not have any at all. However, he needs to be able to pay attention to the professor, and nothing is worth the torture of campus coffee.

Hence why he's jogging and wheezing - seeing as he doesn't run or even speed-walk...ever.

"You better have my coffee ready." He says as he pushes the door open.

Mira, the black-haired, incredily emo-looking girl that's also working narrows her Kohl-rimmed eyes and glares. She's a very grumpy person, Dan's come to notice.

"You're late." Charlotte retorts as she slides his coffee over.

"Gee, _really_ Sherlock?" He replies, then winces at his tone.

After all, it's not her fault he slept in, and he knows it.

"I'm sorry, Lott, you didn't deserve that."

"No, I didn't. But I understand, you're late. And luckily for you, I love you, so you're forgiven."

Charlotte smiles, and Dan's mouth turns up slightly.

"It's on the house." She says as he frantically reaches for his wallet.

"Just don't miss your lecture, 'kay? I'll see you at lunch."

Dan nods and thanks her before rushing out.

Phil goes a whole week without seeing the cute stranger, and he finds himself a little disappointed.

It's not like he became dependant on seeing the boy, it's just that he'd settled into a routine, one he likes, and it's odd to find it broken.

He's sure the guy is just busy - who isn't - but still, he hopes that the stranger will make his appearance soon.

He'd really like to make an introduction of himself.

* * *

 

Charlotte's working, and Dan's audition's been rescheduled, so he decides to hang out at  _'Stay Awake'_ until she finishes. They're way overdue for a bestie night in, a proper adult version with more alcohol and shitty movies than scripts and cases like last time.

That plan is immediately destroyed, when he opens the door to find the coffee shop practically overflowing with impatiently waiting customers.

He heads to the staff entry ignoring the glares of the customers in line.

"You look a little busy." He says.

"Some idiot posted an Instagram of one of our coffee's with some comment about how it's the best drink he's ever had, then he tweeted about it and suddenly we're bursting with more customers than we can fit in the store." Charlotte snaps from her position at the commercial machine.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He asks, wary of her potential reaction.

"Does it look like it?" She asks.

"Not from your side. I was going to see if you wanted to come over tonight, but you're busy...so just text me when you're done, yeah?"

"Sounds great. I don't have your coffee for you, sorry."

Dan shakes his head dismissedly. "Don't worry about it, I'll see you later."

Charlotte nods once, curtly, and then her attention is dragged back to the machine.

Dan waves, not because he expects her to mirror his actions, but because it feels strange not to.

* * *

 

He doesn't really know what to do, his only plan for the day had been to chill with Charlotte, and that quickly went bust; so he decides to wander around the paved streets with no clear destination in mind.

He browses in a few shops, mentally picking out a few options for Charlotte's birthday, which isn't for a few months so there's no need for anything more serious than window shopping.

Dan doesn't notice the book-store - cottage-like and peaceful, with a wooden sign above the store that sways in the wind, reading _'Lester's Library'_ \- until he's half a block away, and whether it's the cold breeze nipping at his nose and freezing his blood, the really adorable guy _in_ the book-store, his intense boredom or a combination of everything, he's not too sure; but his ice-block legs are carrying him towards the book-store. Before he can even make the conscious, possibly _smarter_ decision to keep walking, he's opening the door, the bell above the frame tinkling like wind chimes or piano notes, indicating his entrance.

"Just a second," A voice calls out, and it's almost velvet smooth, with hints of a Northern accent laced through the words.

Dan waits by the door, contemplating making a run for it before he can properly make a fool of himself - but just as he's about to reach for the door handle, an ink-haired man roughly his height, comes whirling around the corner.

Dan recognises him as his book-store crush almost immediately, which is probably problematic, at the least for him.

"I'm sorry about that, I was tagging the new books...oh."

The guy looks up and pauses, recognition settling in as a smile appears, genuine and bright.

"It's you." He breathes, then shakes his head, chuckling softly.

"I'm sorry, that was...this sounds really creepy, but I've seen you walk past, and I've always wondered...anyway, that's not important."

He holds out his hand, and his fingers are long and pale, but when Dan steps forward to shake them, they're surprisingly and soft.

"I'm Phil," The guy says, and his smile is warm and endearing, and it lights a flame deep in Dan's heart spreading heat like fire through his veins.

"Dan," He replies, and he finds himself smiling too.

"It's nice to properly meet you, Dan." Phil says, and Dan can't help but revel in how amazing his name sounds rolling off Phil's tongue.

_(And Dan thought he had been crushing before)_

"Do you want to browse, or do you have a book in mind?" Phil questions, and Dan mentally face-palms, because of course Phil expects him to be looking for a book. What else would Dan be doing there?

"Not...really. I was meant to be hanging out with my best friend, but she's busy. I honestly came in here on a whim."

"Ah, I see. Well, you're welcome to look around if you want, you never know what you might find. It's pretty empty at the moment - I must admit, I'm kind of glad you're here, it can get quite lonely."

Phil's eyes - which are a bright cerulean blue, with specks of chartreuse and a green that reminds him of the light across the lake that haunts Jay in _The Great Gatsby_ \- are sparkling and shining and Dan's heart spurs into overdrive.

"I could just...spend time talking with you - you know, so you don't get lonely, of course." Dan suggests, almost wincing at how awkward he sounds.

"Of course." Phil nods.

"I'd like that," He admits. "But it's really up to you. I don't want to be a bother."

"I hardly believe getting to know you would be a bother." Dan says quietly, and at first he's not even sure that Phil heard him.

But then Phil laughs, a short one that could easily be mistaken for a cough, and he's grinning and nodding, and Dan's sure that he's wrong, but it looks like Phil's blushing a little bit.

"We can talk out the back, if you'd like. There's a cosy seating area with these really soft armchairs, they're like seating in pillowy quicksand." Phil suggests, and Dan's slightly grateful that he's not the only one who sounds a little awkward. It's a small comfort, but it eases his anxieties a little.

"Sounds great. Lead the way." Dan sweeps his arm out, and Phil semi-bows and walks off in the direction he initially came from, Dan following him closely.

When Phil says it's  _cosy_ , he was understating it. The reading area is more than simply cosy, it's spacious and inviting - the caret is soft, the armchairs elegant with curved wooden arms, each book on the shelf crying out to be picked up and read. The miniaturised chandeliers give off a warm glow, the metal engravements almost graceful in the way they twist and fold and curve. The room smells like dust and vanilla, Earl Grey tea and honey, fills Dan with the same comforting warmth that comes from drinking a sweet mug of hot cocoa.

"I think  _cosy_  is a bit of an over-exaggeration." Dan says sarcastically.

Phil laughs, and the sound reminds Dan of the notes he plays sometimes on his piano, light and delicate and enchanting.

"I'll try harder next time." Phil says. He nods to two armchairs, situated right next to each other with only a small table and lamp between them.

Dan takes a seat on one, and Phil moves the other around, just a little, so he's facing Dan better.

He doesn't say anything, so Dan doesn't question it.

"I believe that the best way to get to know each other is to talk." Phil says, his face lighting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes, the mask of a trickster.

"Twenty questions?"

* * *

 

They ask questions and queries, and learn and laugh and grin.

Dan learns about how Phil came to own the bookstore, how his passion for books and reading began at an early age, when his grandmother would read Tolkien and Rowling and Dahl, and that he has an impressive video game collection upstairs.

Phil learns that Dan wants to be an actor, that he has an unfortunate habit of having deep and lengthy conversations with himself, and that when he was a kid be brought a nightclub for a hamster.

Phil darts back and forth, hastily apologising to Dan before greeting a customer, and then he returns to regale him with tales of Florida (he lost his parents in a mall) and Australia (the spiders are deadly and the sun can kill you...everything can kill you) and even lovely Northern England - don't feed the horses.

Before either of them know it, twilight has fallen, the sky filled with hues of marigold and coal and violet and navy blue. Phil flips the sign indicating it's closure, startled and a bit embarrassed to find the store deserted bar him and Dan.

"It's getting late...I'm so sorry for keeping you so long." Phil apologises.

"Nonsense. I would have just spent the day mindlessly wandering the streets - instead I got to know you."

Dan smiles, as does Phil, and Dan should be feeling an ache from stretching his lips so much but the overwhelming happiness stifles all of that.

"I should probably get going though, I'm supposed to meet up with Charlotte...can I get your number before I go?"

Dan almost cringes at how straightforward he's being - he's brain is running on autopilot and he's failing at gaining control - but Phil nods, and as they swap numbers a calming ease seems to settle around them.

"Wait," Phil calls as Dan's about to leave.

Dan turns so he's facing Phil, and is surprised to find Phil looking nervous, pearl teeth biting his bottom lip.

"This is probably a little too, soon, considering we only properly met today. But, through our talking I've gotten to know you, and impossible as it sounds I really like you. Do you think...would you mind going for coffee, or something? Tomorrow?"

Dan's a little taken aback at first, and though it wanes, he still sounds a little shocked when he answers.

"Uh, sure...yeah. I mean -" He coughs, the words pressing against the roof of his mouth, urgent to get out.

"That sounds great. Awesome. I'd love to." He says.

"Good." Phil exhales.

"I really like you too." Dan adds.

"Also good."

Dan's ready to turn around, before he makes a fool of himself, but then he has an idea that's all too enticing and potentially rewarding to pass up.

"Before I go..." He says, and he fights down the nerves clenching his gut, he assures himself it be will be fine because Phil _just_ admitted to liking him.

"Is it _also_ too soon to, maybe...kiss you?"

Phil shakes his head and slowly steps forward, thin hands reaching out to firmly grasp Dan's hips.

"Well, I'm hardly going to object." He murmurs softly.

Dan grins and locks his hands around Phil's neck, wrists crossed, fingers tangling in the black locks that are as soft as they look, and leans in.

Phil's lips are soft and gentle and smooth, his mouth tastes like sweet chocolate and mellow coffee, and he's as eager to kiss Dan, as Dan is to kiss him. Their lips slip and slide, slotting together like puzzle pieces, and Dan can't help but wonder why he'd never entered the store before.

"Holy..." Phil breathes out once they pull away.

 _"Yeah,"_ Dan agrees.

Neither step away, and Dan's not sure he even wants to.

"I'm sorry, but I should really go - Charlotte's temper is a wrathful fury that no one wants to ever stand before. And I did kind of promise to hang with her."

Phil nods, understandingly, and they both reluctantly step apart.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Dan says.

"Can't wait," Phil replies.

Dan, feeling strangely bold, kisses Phil, quick and rushed and messy, before backing away.

He leaves Phil with the promise of tomorrow burning in both their minds and the taste of Phil's mouth lingering on his lips.


End file.
